Delicate mating coos of the Ruddy Ground Dove traveled a light breeze and caressed the ears of passersby one hundred yards away. Upon a residential patio, near the source of the sound, a less fragile melody was revealed.

“Yi yi yi yiiiii!” squawked Montee, and he continued,

“First come da look,
And den da coo,
And den da fi-yaah!”

“El. Oh. El,” said Mama as she high-winged her mate. “But you not funny no more.”

“Come on Mama, you know you like my song.”

“I like it fine, but you gotta make da nest before da egg come.”

“No worry. I be back soon.”

As promised Montee returned quickly, carrying a lengthy twig in his beak, “Keelago, Montee go, Mama why don’t we go—”

“You drop da twig again,” said Mama. “You gotta stop singing or you never get it done.”

Alas, it is the sad lot of the Ruddy Ground Dove, and indeed of all the dove breeds, that for reasons beyond mortal understanding God created their heads so tiny they can afford only the smallest hint of brain. There is no room for such luxuries as logic and reasoning and so these poor creatures are terrible nest builders. It can take days for a dove to build a viable nest, (and I use the term viable in the loosest possible sense).

Montee boasted the completion of his nest. He cared not that twenty hours had past, nor that there were four times as many twigs splayed on the ground than within the nest itself. Mama hurriedly wiggled a dove shaped hollow into the bed of the nest and to the surprise of both parents, not one but two eggs arrived.

“Dey’ll be James and Semaj,” said Mama, “since one’s da mirror image of da other.”

“Name them whatever you want,” said Sebastian, the fattest and laziest cat in Central America. “They’ll always be Lunch and Dinner to me.”

“Oh no no I don’ think so,” said Mama. “You could not catch my babies if dey was standing on da ground.”

“We’ll see,” said Sebastian. “If they inherited their father’s flying genes I may get to test your theory.”

“I fly fine,” said Montee looking back at Sebastian while flying away, and unfortunately, SPLAT! Without taking notice of a nearby window.

Sebastian laughed with such avidity he grew tired from the effort, so he fell back on his hindquarters and licked his paw until he fell asleep.

James and Semaj thrived inside the comfort of Mama’s nest and soon they were ready for flight school. Mama had not a doubt her boys would soar. They were special and she told them this often. On the day of first flight both boys, first James and then Semaj, bolted from the nest and soared across the sky, just like Mama had predicted. Their tiny heads were packed with confidence.

Mama placed the tips of her wings on the portion of her body that would have been her hips, if she had them. “Life’s gonna be hard,” she said. “Might not get what you want. But God gave you wings. Know what dat means? Means you more dan falcon food. You was made to fly. When you fly it’s da same as when eagles fly. Dose wings is a gift. So go out and fly boyz. Fly!”

James pried himself from the nest; perched on the edge for a few moments, and then flew away. “Bye Mama, I love you,” he said.

Semaj took off straight from the nest. “By Mama, I love you,” he said.

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A very interesting read! A tale showing what it means by nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Unless we put to use the talents and gifts God has bestowed on us and 'fly,' we are in danger of getting devoured by our enemy that prowls around if we choose to stay behind. Like untrained babes needing milk staying in our 'nests,' we can never unless we venture, fulfill God’s will for His purpose and for us.